Will You Humor Me
by Heiress7Muzzy
Summary: I, DRACO LUCIUS MALFOY, do hereby make, publish and declare this to be my Last Will and Testament.


**Title: **Will You Humor Me

**Disclaimer: **This story is based entirely on the story J.K. Rowling has written. She owns all of the characters, ideas, credit and copyright. This story is made simply for enjoyment and no money is being made from this. No offence intended. No copyright infringement intended.

**Warnings: **Character death

**Pairings: **Harry/Draco

**Summary: **I, DRACO LUCIUS MALFOY, do hereby make, publish and declare this to be my Last Will and Testament.

**Author's Note: **Just a stroke of inspiration that hit me on the bus, let me know what you think. Enjoy!

Harry slit open the creamy envelope with slightly trembling hands, and eased the sheaf of parchment out with care.

**THE LAST WILL AND TESTAMENT OF DRACO MALFOY**

I, DRACO LUCIUS MALFOY, do hereby make, publish and declare this to be my Last Will and Testament. (As if it could be anything else, it's written in capitalized bold at the top of the page. Honestly.)

FIRST: I hereby revoke all former Wills and Codicils by me made. (Excuse the wrong grammar, those wankers at the wizarding lawyers' firm insisted on making this Last Will and Testament all bloody formal. I had to bribe in the profanities.)

SECOND: (i) I give and bequeath to my good friend BLAISE ZABINI my diamond chess set, my Armani (Muggle brand) collection of leather jackets, the contents of my entire shoe closet (except for the dragonhide custom-made boots; I'm wearing those in my coffin if it kills me. Ha. Kills me. Get it?), and my secret stash of gay pornos from school (they're under the fake bottom of my spring wardrobe).

(ii) I give and bequeath to my friend VINCENT CRABBE my key to my Edible Garden of Eden (located off a passage of the kitchens), my solid gold chef's hat (advisable not to wear should Mr. Crabbe wish to avoid a concussion) and my stainless silverware (except for the Bewitched Bottomless Bowl).

(iii) I give and bequeath to my friend GREGORY GOYLE my Bewitched Bottomless Bowl (should be able to store and keep fresh food up to the period of ten years), my collection of realistic medieval torture equipment (which have, of course, never been used during my term of ownership, but continued disuse of which I cannot guarantee once fallen into the possession of Mr. Goyle), and my Honeydukes titanium debit card (if already over-cashed, it would still make for decent memorabilia).

(iv) I give and bequeath to my friend PANSY PARKINSON my wardrobe of feminine dress (everything from the AA-cup bras to the lace-bodiced Renaissance ball gowns. And don't judge a gay man for having cross-dressing fetishes), my Hand of Glory (which I cannot be held responsible for should it decide to strangle Ms. Parkinson), and my credit cards, debit cards, shopping privileges and VIP discounts I currently hold in possession (except for my Honeydukes titanium debit card).

(v) I give and bequeath to my mother NARCISSA MALFOY my winter furs, my Glamorous Globe, my lava lamp collection, my Muggle art collection, my Gucci (Muggle brand) man bags (which apparently are handbags, so Mrs. Malfoy can use them), my silver ring with the fox entwined around it and my Self-Refilling Shampoo and Conditioner Set (I will not be held responsible for the odd split end).

(vi) I give and bequeath to my father LUCIUS MALFOY my personal library, any artifacts found in my study, my crystal quill and ink-bottle, my stable and all horses in it (except for Maelstrom, the dapple grey mare, and Thane, the pure black stallion), my Pensive Pensieve (on the condition that Mr. Malfoy uses it wisely and stores it to the brim with memories of his loving son, a.k.a. yours truly), and my personal Dark Artifacts Dungeon (and frankly, I don't care if you fools find out I kept Dark artifacts in a dungeon under my manor. It should have been bloody obvious. Anyway, I know this particular bequest will never make it to Mr. Malfoy. But it's the thought that counts).

(vii) I give and bequeath to my… acquaintance HERMIONE WEASLEY my private supply of embroidered parchment (and if Mrs. Weasley does anything to change the embossed Malfoy crest she may not have it) and my one-of-a-kind expandable baby pram (for the no doubt numerous litters of offspring Mrs. Weasley will have).

(viii) I give and bequeath to my… acquaintance's husband RONALD WEASLEY my old Chudley Canons fan gear (everything from the neon orange afro wig to the orange toy broom. If Mr. Weasley so much as laughs when he see the collection he may as well kiss the Canons equipment goodbye).

THIRD: I bequeath all the rest, residue and remainder of my property of whatsoever kind or character and wheresoever situated, apart from the wardrobe containing my sex equipment, to my husband HARRY JAMES POTTER. (I would also like to hereby clarify to Mr. Potter that I meant him no ill meaning when I specifically deny him our sex supplies. He may have the equipment under sworn Wizard's Oath that he shall not use them with any person except himself, for reminiscing purposes or masturbation only. I am not the jealous type, I can assure you.)

[Anything from this point onwards cost me much painstaking effort and skilled bribery before making it onto my Last Will and Testament.]

Dear Blaise, Vince, Greg and Pans,

Don't miss me too much. Who am I kidding? Of course you won't miss me. Slytherins don't love each other, do we? Regardless of typical Slytherin behavior, merit or conduct, I… feel something for you wankers that I don't for other idiots. Oh, sod it, I'll be dead when you read this anyway, a little sentimentality can't hurt. I love you guys. There. Happy? It's bloody embarrassing, this confession. Just don't let word get out that Draco Malfoy has turned into a sappy fool who goes round telling people I love them, alright?

Blaise, if you so much as spill tea on my Armani jackets I _will_ come back to haunt you, in whatever form I can take. Vince, don't eat everything in the Edible Garden of Eden at once, you'll get so big you won't be able to get back out of the door. Greg, put the medieval torture equipment to good use, will you? (And don't let them be taken away by those meddling fools at the Ministry.) Pans, you'll love the outfits I gave you. There are some of Lady Gaga's more… outrageous outfits in there.

I guess this is it then. Bye, you guys.

Signed,

Dray

Dear Mother and Father,

If you're reading this, I am truly sorry I couldn't stay and take care of you. What kind of son am I, to leave behind my parents without so much as a farewell? I just want you both to know, you mean a lot to me, and I love you.

Harry will take care of you guys, I made him promise that. And don't give me crap about how you two are perfectly capable of taking care of yourselves. I'll feel better if I know you're in good hands, so don't kill Harry when he visits, okay? That's the last thing I'll ask of you.

Thank you for all that you've done for me, whether it was when I fell off my broom at six and Mother stayed with me until I was better, or when I failed my mission for the Dark Lord and Father risked his life to flee the country with me. I hope I have done something in my life to make you proud.

Mother, the Self-Refilling Shampoo and Conditioner Set should be able to help you keep your hair in condition, regardless of your age. Father, do use the Pensive Pensieve to remember me by, will you?

I love you both. Goodbye, Mother and Father.

Signed,

Draco

Dear Granger and Weasley,

I still don't like you two. But you've been a good… acquaintance, Granger, and I think your intelligence is almost on par with mine. Weasley, you've made a good… acquaintance's husband. You also have poor taste in Quidditch teams.

I apologize for everything I did to the both of you during our Hogwarts years. I was an utter prat, I know. This is much easier than doing it face-to-face with you. I never was one for apologies. I know asking for your forgiveness is too much, but I am truly sorry.

Take care of Harry for me, will you? Perhaps asking for your help is a bit much after what I did, but I know you both love him, and you'll probably do it anyway.

I'll thank you for doing so in advance. Goodbye.

Signed,

Malfoy

Dear Harry,

Is that a tear I see? Who would have thought? The Saviour of the Wizarding World, crying over a dead ex-Death Eater. Suck it up, Potter, you'll not do anyone good moping about. Get your arse off whatever surface you're collapsed on and go do something productive, like organizing my funeral. It's got to be a lavish event, and I want a crystal coffin. So save your tears for the funeral. Oh, and your money, too. A crystal coffin's really expensive nowadays.

Damn it, I said _stop crying_! Are you daft or just inanely stupid? Is it really too much to ask for you to stop the tears? It's going to make your (really beautiful) eyes look all red-rimmed and unattractive. And you've got to look hot if you want anyone to date you, haven't you? Find a bloke who cares about you and carry on with your life. I know, I know, your life is bleak, empty and desolate without me, the shining beacon of your world, the reason for your existence, and your one and only love. Well, I'm not here anymore, so move on. Oh, I'm not asking you to forget me. If you so much as forget one single detail of our time together, I will kill you from the afterlife.

Just find someone else, and live happily ever after with him. (And as I may have mentioned in the first section of my will, if you so much as use our sex toys with another person, you may not have them. Use them to masturbate or something, and remember all the fun we had with them. But don't share them with whatever bloke you've hooked up with.)

How to end this? I don't know what to say, Harry. I can't thank you enough for our time together. I love you. Always have, always will. (I sound like one of Celestina Warbeck's worst songs.) I have never felt such elation and joy as when you first took my hand, nor will I ever forget our first kiss on that battle-scarred land. (Great, that actually rhymed. Now it sounds like I'm writing a love poem.) Gryffindor's red, Slytherin's green, I love you, sorry I was mean. (How's that for a love poem?)

Take care of Mother and Father for me, will you? Please? They may not have been the best in-laws to have (okay, they're the worst in-laws a person could have. Remember the Christmas dinner where Father was drunk and ended up sword-dueling with you?), but I love them, and I hope you'll do this last thing for me. Let Granger and Weasley help you, don't shut yourself off to the world just because you're pining over me. (Although I admit, I _am_ worth pining over.) And if you don't find yourself a new boyfriend, guess what I'll have to say about that? Scared, Potter? (If you wish to prove my theory that you are a bloody coward wrong, find someone you think you can love and carry on with your life.)

You'll always be my one true love, and I love you, Harry James Potter. I guess this is goodbye then. I'll miss you (theoretically, seeing as how I'm already dead). Bye, Potter, and would you _quit crying_? You're getting snot all over whatever nice robes I picked for you. Oh, and stop running your hands through that crow's nest you call hair, you'll just make it look worse than it already does (although it _is _quite irresistible, even though it looks horrible).

Love,

Draco

**END OF THE LAST WILL AND TESTAMENT OF DRACO MALFOY**

Tears streamed down Harry's face, while hysterical laughter ripped its way out of his throat. Placing the will on the table, he heaved himself to his feet, and set about checking the price for a crystal coffin.


End file.
